


The ElRey Mark

by itsvarza



Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:06:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7909342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsvarza/pseuds/itsvarza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’d been the most romantic, perfect moment of Sebastian’s life. The ideal meet cute. If both halves of the meet had actually noticed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The ElRey Mark

**Author's Note:**

> based on that one tweet.

\--

Sebastian immediately regrets coming back to their room when he opens the door and sees Chace actually awake at his desk for a change, idly clacking away at the keys.

“Hey man,” Chace says, without looking up from his laptop.

“What’re you doing in here? Don’t you have class?” Sebastian asks, as if he doesn’t have Chace’s entire schedule memorized to a fault. Don’t get him wrong, Chace is awesome – he couldn’t ask for a better roommate – but Sebastian’s still not 100% used to sharing his space. He can’t wait until they move into a proper apartment next year. It’s not like Chace even  _cares_ ; he’s the chillest guy Sebastian knows and mostly too stoned to even notice whatever embarrassing habits Sebastian never grew out of, but it’s just. It’s still an adjustment.

“Skipping,” is the absent-minded reply. “Forgot I’ve got a paper due, so I gotta crank it out.”

“Aw shit, good luck with that,” he mumbles as he slides off his messenger bag and casually rearranges its contents, totally back in the room for legitimate reasons. He takes out a text from his earlier class and tosses it on his desk, before rummaging through his wardrobe. When he finds what he’s looking for, he tries to change out of his pants as quickly and unobtrusively as possible.

He decides to keep things low-key, so the hoodie stays and he resists looking at the mirror on his way out, which is probably what ends up giving him away.

“Where you headed off to?” Chace’s voice is bone-dry, still sleep-soft, and he’s not even looking in Sebastian’s direction, but he always fucking  _knows_.

“Got a study d-,” he bites off too late. “Study thing. Tutoring.”

“Ohh. No wonder you’re wearing ‘em. The tutor,” Chace says knowingly.

Sebastian swallows his instinctual protest. No use denying it when it’s not like Chace doesn’t have eyes and sees him daily in his grossest sweats that he’s loathe to take off and wash, because he’s worn them in soft and just right. Sebastian tends to go zero to one-eighty appearance-wise, nights when he spends hours carefully choosing his shirts and shoes and everything in between, probably over-accessorizing by an extra scarf or ring or whatever, but he can’t help himself sometimes, loves the way they all look together, and then swinging violently back to his uniform of unwashed layered soft cottons. Chace has a more effortless look, always sleekly styled but also casually, comfortably well-dressed. And, yeah, they’re just a pair of jeans, but they’re the tightest ones Sebastian owns, and it’s not like Chace hasn’t heard him bitching about that fact every single time he wears them when he’s looking to score.

Sebastian’s tried to keep the whole tutoring thing under the radar, because it’s not like he doesn’t know he’s pathetically mooning over something that will  _never happen_ , and crushes are still fun even if they’re also personally debilitating. But Chace can be overprotective – they’d met when Sebastian was still tentatively tiptoeing out of the closet, trying desperately to slim down, sleek up, and sleep with as many boys that would have him. And in that exhilarating flush of first bloom, of possibility, he hadn’t always exercised the most discretion. Or judgment. And Chace had had to bail him out of none too few scrapes, chiding his shitty taste all the while. It’s not that Sebastian has  _bad_ taste, per se, it’s more that he’s still figuring out what he wants. He’s open. He’s-

“Who’s the guy, anyway? What’s with all the mystery?”

Over Sebastian’s dead body. Or Chris’s, if Chace ever finds out. He knows what Chace would think and knows just as surely that Chace is wrong. Chris may be straight, and the kind of fratty that Chace tends to look down on, but he’s also a nice guy. And not in the shitty sense you usually hear it, but like, genuinely, super fucking nice. No way he’s letting Chace sink his claws into this one. “It’s nothing. He’s  _no one_. He’s just, you know, nice to look at.”

“Uh-huh. So you thought you’d give him a little something to look back at.”

He flushes. It’s stupid. But last week, Chris went cross-eyed when a girl dropped her purse and bent over, scrambling to pick up its spilled contents. She’d been wearing yoga pants, and Chris had nearly gone catatonic. Add that to the evidence of the never-ending line of girls who find some reason to approach Chris while the two of them are studying, books pressed up to ample chests shown to their best advantage in low-cut tops and Chris smiling warmly but firmly getting back to tutoring, eyes never dipping. Clearly an ass man. Which, well, just so happens to be one of Sebastian’s better features. Best even, according to no small number of unpolled for commentators. It’s not like Chris will magically forget about the dick that comes with that ass, but he wouldn’t be the first straight guy who checked Sebastian out. Not even the first straight guy who took him up on it. Not that the latter happens all that often – he’s mostly good about leaving the straights alone this year – but he still gets a little secret thrill either way. It’s not that he expects Chris to be seriously tempted or anything. Not Chris Evans, all-around all-star who can get any girl he wants and only dates the hottest.

But if he could just get Chris’s attention, even for a second. Get him to see him as something, anything, other than the lame loser  _kid_  he so clearly sees Sebastian as. It’s embarrassing that Chris is only one year older than him, exactly fourteen months, but Chris calls him kid, treats him just like one. Like he’s babysitting. Chris has got a year and maybe an inch on him, but somehow they seem worlds apart. And the shitty thing is, Sebastian feels it, too. Chris  _looks_ older, usually sports a full beard that Sebastian couldn’t grow the ravages of to save his life, and he’s broad in the way that Sebastian would never want for himself but finds unbearably sexy. Sebastian’s still got that baby face, and while he’s trying like hell to burn it off, he still has the last vestiges of baby fat clinging to him, too, making him soft.

The truth is, he’s always had a thing for older guys; he’s drawn to people who can teach him, who he can learn from, and he’s attracted to the kind of confidence that usually only age brings. Chris just has that kind of confidence.

Sebastian isn’t as much of a loser as he was in high school. He’s made big improvements since last year and having Chace taking him under his wing. Shedding a few pounds, smartening his looks up (well, when he’s not rolling around campus in his dirty sweats), sleeping with boys _._ College has been a game-changer. And he wants to level up. And no, you don’t go from giving blowjobs in men’s toilets to legit dating Chris fucking Evans, but he could maybe get Chris to look at him for a second, really see him, maybe even laugh at one of his lame jokes. It’d be something. A start. Get more on the same level to bring Chris that little bit back down to earth, so Sebastian can finally start getting over this ridiculous crush.

“You know if I really wanted to, I could find out who’s got you all worked up in two minutes, right? I’m letting you have this sad illusion of privacy you seem so bent on that doesn’t actually exist between us. Not when I have to listen to you jerk off in your bed every fucking night. But this isn’t last year, I’m going to let you come crawling to me when you inevitably need my help. Probably in moving on from another one of your disastrous crushes,” Chace muses, cracking his neck and flexing his fingers. “You’ve got seriously shitty taste,” he says for the umpteenth time.

“I don’t,” he says reflexively. Even though, ok, he knows, they both do, that he really, really does. He can’t seem to help himself. He’s just drawn to really pretty people; they make him dumb and treat him like shit, and it only makes him want them, want to please them, more. That’s been his tried and tested taste in girls, at least. He’d been hoping his taste in boys would be different. And after an undiscriminating year trying out all flavors, he's eager to start really figuring it out. Things are different though, and it’s weird to find himself being the so-called pretty one, to think of himself that way. To have guys suddenly asking him out the way he sweated out his proposals all throughout high school. Not that he's given them much notice lately.

Not with Chris in the picture. Chris who doesn’t seem high-maintenance or demanding at all. He’s patient and sweet and actually good at everything and seemingly has no idea. He’s hilarious and has the biggest heart, even volunteers to tutor losers like Sebastian and, god, Sebastian is so fucked. Because turns out, his taste in guys is even worse than in girls. Apparently his type is perfect and completely, laughably unattainable.

\--

“Hey kid, how it’s going?” Chris greets him with that devastating smile on his face. He’s always so  _happy_. Sebastian thinks he’s a pretty upbeat guy himself, but it’s sort of a general vague happiness he feels at the world while Chris’s joy seems laser-focused on whoever he’s with, like they’re the  _reason_  he’s so happy. It’s overwhelming to be on the end of that smile to say the least.

“It’s, um, it’s going,” he says dumbly, wanting nothing more than to punch himself in the face. “Not so well,” he adds. He can already feel his face heating up and they haven't even gotten started yet. He immediately looks down and rummages through his bag while trying to kick the chair out and slide his bag over his head. He sort of falls into his seat. Super graceful. “This essay is kicking my ass.” He brandishes his notebook like a lifesaver, desperate to have something between them to focus on, anything other than his utter inability to communicate.

“Oh yeah?” Chris nods his head sympathetically. “Can I see?”

“Um, I haven’t actually written anything yet,” Sebastian says sheepishly. “These are just the notes I took in class and reference stuff to look up. I don’t really understand the topic? So I’m not sure how to get started.”

“Ok, let’s go from the beginning. What’s the topic?”

“It’s basically, like, who rules America. The, uh,” he stalls, flipping through his notes before latching on to some of the more particularly violent highlighted sections. “The Class-Domination Theory of Power? But there’re these four theories, four networks, four of both?” he trails off, brows ruffling. His notes make no fucking sense.

“No, yeah, that’s right. Don’t worry about all that yet. Bottom line, who has the power?”

“Uhh, I guess, you know. Rich people, big business,” he trails off, trying to think and parse through his notes. “The president? I mean, all that sounds too obvious. Is this a trick question?”

“No tricks here,” Chris says seriously, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips before stretching wide with his hands as he starts warming up to the subject. “I mean, go back to George Washington. He had tons of land. All throughout history, our presidents have been tied to money, monopolistic interests. Fast forward to the Bushes. You get the picture.”

He groans, “Well, that’s depressing as fuck. And also, how am I supposed to fluff a two-word answer into a 2000-word essay?”

Chris laughs. “It’s because the answer’s simple, but you need to focus your paper on the reason behind the answer, and that's a lot more complicated. There’re a lot of things to take into account, and it’s all steeped in American history and the social classes-” Sebastian’s eyes are noticeably glazing over so Chris hurries to reassure him. “But it’s all building blocks! They all make sense together, don’t worry, we’ll go through everything piece by piece. I think I know where this paper’s supposed to be heading. There was this study a few years ago that put America as more of an oligarchy than a true democracy, it’s all about the Economic Elite Domination. We studied it a ton when it came out, so I’m pretty well-versed in it, but I'm jumping ahead. Let’s set a schedule for where we need to be by each session in order to meet your deadline.”

Sebastian nods fervently as they go over what seems like a totally workable schedule, sighing happily as he notes how much more time with Chris he’ll get than he’d dared hope for. He slips into a pleasant haze as Chris’s voice washes over him and absently jots down notes that he can only hope make some sense later. “God, you’re a lifesaver. How do you even understand this stuff? I feel so dumb.”

“Oh, don’t,” Chris says, eyes all terribly blue and earnest. “This stuff's really confusing. And aren’t you from- I mean, you didn’t grow up around here, did you?”

“Um, no? Well, I did,” he adds quickly. “New York and everything. Rockland County. But uh, yeah, I moved to the States when I was 12. Um, from Vienna.”

“Oh!” Chris brightens. “Yeah, I thought so! I mean, not Vienna, I’m not psychic, but, yeah. That’s so cool.”

"Uh, how- How did you know?” 

"Well, I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe. You’ve got this bit of an accent. How you say certain things. This bit of an inflection?”

He can’t help wincing reflexively, even though he’s so over that whole thing. Mostly. He laughs at himself. “Oh, god, that’s so funny. I spent most of high school trying to get rid of that accent. It’s pretty much gone now, I think. I mean, I thought. Thought I did a pretty good job- I don’t even mind it anymore, but it’s mostly, yeah, gone-”

“Oh, no,” Chris rushes in. “I mean, I like it. Your accent’s cute.” He makes the funniest face after. “Cute?” he repeats to himself. “Ok, that’s weird. I meant that in the manliest way possible, obviously.”

 _Cute?_  Did Chris honestly just say he was cute? Or his accent, whatever. Sure, kittens and kids are cute, the latter of which he has to reiterate to himself he’s pretty sure is exactly what Chris sees him as, and sure, it’s no  _hot_ or  _sexy_ , but _Chris thinks he’s cute_. He can’t help smiling goofily. “Obviously.”

“Seriously, that’s cool, though. Accents are cool. Total chick magnet. It’s ridiculous. Even mine gets a lot of mileage now that I’ve left Boston. Sounded like every other chowderhead all throughout school and all of a sudden it’s become, like, I don’t know, niche or something,” he says, making a face.

“Yeah, like you really need the help,” Sebastian answers lightly, trying to ignore the sinking stone in his stomach. It’s not like he doesn’t know _._ Not like the whole school doesn’t know that Chris is constantly shuffling back and forth between the head cheerleader and the swim team captain.

Chris just spreads his arms out and shrugs. “Anyway, Austrian, huh?”

“Oh, I’m actually from Romania. We moved to Vienna first before coming here.”

“No kidding? Ok, I know even less about Romania than I do Austria, but man, I can’t believe that’s something you tried to cover up before. That’s cool as fuck.”

“I was a dumb kid,” he mutters, trying to stress the 'was’. “It was high school. All I wanted was to fit in. Even refused to speak to my mom in Romanian for a while.” He leaves out the part about being the headmaster’s son and overweight and closeted, sexually tormented, it felt like, and how brutal those first few years had really been. The accent had been the first in a long list of things he had worked on to blend in. Sebastian wants to disassociate himself from that loser he’d been as much as possible in front of Chris. The loser he is now is still loads better, thanks. “I was a fucking brat. But anyway, it’s cool you hear a trace of an accent still. That I didn’t totally succeed in forcing it out.”

“Man, I couldn’t get rid of my Boston accent if I tried. That shit’s on you for life.” Chris laughs then, shaking his head. “Three hundred whole miles away. I must seem so boring to you.”

“No way! You know how it is, the other side and all. Growing up, guys like you were the thing,” he bites his lip, too slow to stop the words from coming out.

Chris lifts his eyebrows. “The thing?”

“Well, yeah,” Sebastian says, silently cursing himself before trying to save some semblance of face. “I guess, I mean, you know, girls too, you know, just that all-American thing. We only saw it in magazines, and believe me, it was plenty exotic. Anyway,” he goes on, trying valiantly to steer the conversation back on track, “I don’t have much of an excuse. I’ve been here since middle school. Took those Civics courses just like everyone else. They just didn’t get through my thick head, is all. Not like they did with you apparently.”

“Hey, I’m studying it!” Chris protests. “This is just a gen ed for you. And I’m an upperclassman. Fucking better switch majors if I didn’t have a passable handle on this stuff. And, to be honest, I’ve got an edge because it kinda runs in the family,” he adds, looking a bit sheepish. “My uncle’s a congressman. I’ve kind of grown up around politics. Like always around the dinner table. You sort of learn how to have opinions and counter others’ real quick or else you never get a word in.”

Sebastian quietly sucks in a breath and tries to hold it, tries not to startle this Chris who’s actually voluntarily offering up information for a change. Chris talks, a lot, definitely more than Sebastian, sometimes so quick and Bostonian thick, words tripping up over each other, that Sebastian has a little trouble following. It’s not hard to see that Chris grew up in a full house, happy and loud among a whole clan-full of Evanses jockeying for space in the bathroom or breath in conversations. He talks louder than Sebastian’s used to, too loud for only two people across a small table, especially in the library, but Sebastian loves it. He never really talks about himself, though. Chris talks about sports Sebastian doesn’t follow, people he’s never heard of, and the class Sebastian’s desperately trying not to fail. Chris is big on small talk; he likes to fill the silence. And he asks Sebastian a lot about himself. Nothing probing, but general questions after his welfare, like Chris is his RA or something and absentmindedly checking in on the lowly underclassman who’s tentatively under his care.

This is the first time Chris has said something Sebastian actually doesn’t already know courtesy of his mild form of social media stalking. “So you planning on following your uncle’s footsteps then?”

Chris grimaces. “Loaded question. I mean, there’s kind of that expectation. Or, no, not like that, my parents aren’t actively pushing, although they’d fucking love it. But it’s more, it would be right, you know? It fits. And I’m really into politics, don’t get me wrong. I really care about the issues. I don’t know though. Feel like I should be well on my way, start looking into internships for the summer, but I haven’t gotten off my ass yet. Maybe just want to hold off on the future that little bit longer. Plus, I don’t know if I’m fit for all that in front of the camera stuff.”

Sebastian can’t help the slip of laughter that escapes, hands flying up to cover his mouth.

“What?” Chris’s brows draw together.

“Come on, you’re fucking- You’re made for the camera,” he says, doesn’t even blush with the obvious truth. “You’re photogenic, and you’ve got that face that’s like- Makes people trust you. I’ve seen those posters, don’t even try it.”

"You can’t trust promotional material! No man, seriously, I sweat like a pig, it’s disgusting. And look at this complexion. So unforgiving. I get all red and blotchy. And that’s before I even have to open my mouth. Then things really start going downhill.”

“I’m surprised. I remember you were in that- that play last year. The one you subbed in for?” He promised himself he wouldn't bring it up, but the words leave his mouth before his brain can helpfully step in.

“What, you saw that?”

“Um, I was a part of it. Just a bit part, but uh, yeah, you were hard to miss. Came in last minute and totally saved all our asses. You jumped in and fucking nailed it. Blew us all away. You’re a natural,” Sebastian says, and he can’t help the slightly breathy tone his voice takes, gets caught up in the memories of that first time he’d seen Chris, how it’d felt in his arms, the memory seared in his brain and that he’s relived an embarrassing amount of times in his head in the past year. All while having been complete wallpaper to Chris, as he suspected.

“Oh no way, you were in that? Shit, no wonder I thought you looked a little familiar. I should’ve known when you mentioned being a drama major. But aw dude, that’s. Shit, that’s sweet, thanks. I had fun with it. But that isn’t the same thing. Acting, you know, like that felt good. It’s not  _me_. Public speaking is a whole other ball game.”

Sebastian gets it. It’s why  _he_ loves acting. He’s so self-conscious in his normal life, but up on stage, he can do, be, anything. He revels in being seen, being embarrassing, just going for it. People are always surprised when they see him perform. But there’s such a huge divide between the two worlds, and his breath catches hearing Chris verbalize those very same thoughts. “You ever think of doing more acting? Like, joining another production? You were so good at it, and like you said, it was a lot of fun, right?”

“Fuck, I’d love that, but those things are a huge commitment, and I’ve already got a shitload on my plate right now. But actually, uh, what I’m really interested in is directing. That’s what I’d do, if I could do anything.”

Chris sounds embarrassed, not radiating his usual confidence or that over-the-top joking self-deprecation. He sounds wistful and a little shy, and Sebastian finds this strange new vulnerability in Chris equally appealing, even if he's still flabbergasted at the same time. “But you can, though.” It’s never crossed his mind otherwise. He honestly feels that Chris can do anything.

Chris waves him off, the tips of his ears going red as he scratches his neck distractedly. “It’s really so weird I didn’t remember you. I’m usually pretty good with names, and I definitely would’ve remembered a Sebastian. Guessing we never got introduced?”

Sebastian’s desperate to change the subject now. It was exhilarating at first to reminisce about that fateful week when their paths had crossed which pretty much shaped the rest of his college experience thus far. To be reminded of when they’d first met and how Chris had been funny and sweet and talented and  _really fucking hot_  and had caught Sebastian when he’d fallen, in actual Prince costume. It’d been the most romantic, perfect moment of Sebastian’s life. The ideal meet cute. If both halves of the meet had actually noticed.

Instead it’d been totally one-sided, of course, and completely forgettable on Chris’s part, a total non-event. It’s not like Sebastian expected anything else, but still. It stings a bit to be reminded. He fidgets in his seat, feeling stupid, his stupidly tight jeans making it hard to cross his legs, jeans he stupidly wore thinking. What. What would possibly happen. Sebastian should be happy. They’re actually talking, really talking, for the first time since Chris sat across from him and introduced himself as Sebastian’s Poli Sci tutor and effectively broke his mind in the process. He’s been telling himself for weeks that he’d be happy, thrilled, to just be friends with the guy. Chris is this amazing presence to be around – Sebastian would be lucky enough to be in his orbit – but he just can’t help-

“-Sebastian?”

“SEA BASS!”

Anthony’s boom of a voice drowns out Chris’s question, and Sebastian jolts, knee coming up hard to crack against the bottom of the desk. “Fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his knee while whipping his head around eagerly. “Anthony!” 

“Where your head at, kid? You looking lost as usual. Come on, give me some love here, let me look at you,” Anthony says, grinning.

Sebastian lets out a little huff but untangles himself from his seat and gets up, turning around gamely to meet inspection.

Anthony shakes his shoulders before sliding down to squeeze his biceps. “Not bad, not bad,” he says. “What about your leg work? You not forgetting them legs, are you?” He looks down and lets out a whistle. “Jesus, those pants are  _tight_. How do you even walk in those things?”

“Hey, I’m trying, ok?” They both burst out laughing, at what, Sebastian doesn’t even know. Anthony always makes him laugh, this giddy uncontrollable burst of laughter, and the craziest thing is that it’s somehow reciprocated. Anthony always ends up laughing at his lame jokes, or the incomprehensible jumble of words that fall out, and he always laughs disproportionately long and loud. It makes Sebastian feel fucking  _amazing._

“How do you two know each other?”

Sebastian startles and whips his head back. He’d actually kind of forgotten Chris was there for a second. “Anthony knows everyone.”

“I’m a friendly guy,” Anthony agrees. “And I’m his trainer,” he says with his next breath.

“Fuck you!” Sebastian laughs. “I don’t even know this guy,” he leans towards Chris, whispering. “He’s just always coming up to me, and I go with it. Figure it’d make him leave quicker.”

“We have a very special relationship,” Anthony continues, nodding, not skipping a beat. “No one word really sums it up. Life coach, maybe? Auxiliary life support system?”

“You spotted me, like, one time,” Sebastian counters, rolling his eyes.

“You should’ve seen this kid,” Anthony crows to Chris. “You would’ve shit yourself. Chris is a freak about proper training. He’s a total mother hen, would’ve been clucking over you all night.”

“Yeah, that sounds terrible, actually getting some help and concern. As I recall, you just fucking laughed and called out my terrible form. And then I think you complimented my hair.” He smiles fondly at the memory. “And it was my first time! I mean,” he says, looking quickly back over at Chris, “I’m not really a big gym person.” As in, at all. He prefers yoga and running outside. Slimming down as opposed to hulking up. Chace had gotten him into the gym last year, and he’d been halfheartedly trying to round out his routine a bit since. He doesn’t know how a few stray days looking lost at the gym got him adopted by the biggest weightlifters in the place.

“You don’t need me going easy on you, you’ve already got your whole squad. All they do is baby your ass. He’s like their mascot,” Anthony tells Chris. “Sexy Sea Bass, over here.”

“Aw man, you’re never gonna let that die, are you?”

“Fuck you talking about? Sexy sexy Sea Bass. Just calling it like I see it. You’re earning that name in them jeans, kid.  _Damn_.” Anthony gives him one last look over before pulling him into a hug. “Alright, I gotta get going. Need to check this book out before my next class. But hey, we’re doing a little house thing this weekend, you gotta come, Sea Bass. I feel you only exist in the gym or library. Trying to show everyone up all the time.”

“Oh sure, totally,” Sebastian says, nodding. He hates parties, but he’s physically incapable of saying 'no’ to Anthony. He's already thinking of ways to make sure Chace will come with.

“Sweet! I’ll text you the details. We’re gonna have fun with you. Alright, I’m outta here. Stay safe. Let the boys breathe a bit.”

Sebastian’s still grinning, watching Anthony until he gets out of sight, and when he finally turns back around, it’s to see Chris’s gaze hovering a bit, well, lower. Hovering somewhere between his back and his thighs. Sebastian clears his throat, immediately on edge again now that it’s back to the two of them. “Sorry,” he says inanely, making a vague gesture in Anthony’s departed direction.

“Those jeans  _are_ tight,” Chris murmurs distractedly, eyes lazily making their way back up to Sebastian’s face.

“Laundry day,” Sebastian lies, toppling back into his seat with zero grace. He’s starting to feel light-headed, blood rushing to his face and he’s terrified it’ll travel to other parts that his too tight jeans will be way too uncomfortably revealing about. His head feels filled with cotton, fuzzy except for the persistent thought that Chris had been looking at his  _ass_ not thirty seconds ago. _Holy shit, it'd actually worked_. Chris's gaze had tripped there at Anthony’s hypnotic suggestion and then he’d. Lingered. It's a lot to take in. When Sebastian manages to pull himself together, it’s to see Chris looking at him strangely. It’s no wonder with Sebastian randomly spacing out like that.

“You’re so different around him. I’ve never seen you…” Chris trails off and shrugs as if the difference is obvious, and well, it is.

“He has that effect on people,” Sebastian mumbles. “The guy’s crazy.”

“Haha, yeah, he is, he’s the best.” Chris is still staring, like he’s seeing Sebastian for the first time. “But he really likes you. Mackie gets along with everyone, but you two seem pretty close,” he says, and there’s no masking the surprise in his voice.

Sebastian gets it. He’s surprised, too. He knows they make an odd pair, doesn’t know how or what it is that makes them gel so well. He’d been tentative at first, not sure what the play was. He figured guy like that got along the same way with everyone. Made you feel instantly comfortable, talked to you like you were best friends, but then out of sight and onto the next. But Anthony kept coming up to him, kept making him laugh, and Sebastian stopped questioning it somewhere along the line. “We just hit it off. I’m not, you know,” he stumbles and then gestures at himself with a rueful look. “Well, you’ve met me. You wouldn’t think we’d really get on. The guy’s loud,” he says with fond emphasis. “But he makes me loud, too. I wish I could be that comfortable with everyone, the way he can, but it’s enough that he makes me feel that way around him, you know?” He’s still smiling goofily, and when he focuses back on Chris, he can’t quite pinpoint the expression on his face. He wiggles in his seat self-consciously before taking things back to safer ground, still feeling off-center from this shift in Chris’s behavior, the sudden intent. “Sorry we got so off-task there. Productivity tends to take a hit when Anthony’s around. I know you’ve got better things to do with your time.” And sure enough, Chris slides back into something more light and familiar. 

“Come on! It’s good to see you relax a bit. I know this class has got you stressed, but you got this. We’ll get through it together.”

A warm flush works its way down his throat at that  _together_ , and he pillows his head on his arms on the table, hiding his face from view in case he’s as flaming red as he fears, and groans. “I feel like I’m totally wasting your time. Like this schedule you’ve outlined, it’s all this catching up on stuff I need to know first before even attempting to start on my paper. I don’t even have a title yet!”

“I usually do the title last?” Chris volunteers, sounding lost. “It’s pretty much just restating some point you make in the paper, right? So it’s easy to pull some line out after you’re done.”

“I like to do it first,” Sebastian says, knowing he’s being ridiculous but not quite able to help himself. Their tutoring time is winding down, which he always hates, especially when he feels no closer to understanding the subject at hand. Incompetence is really not sexy. “It gets my word count started,” he continues lamely then sighs. “I’m going to fail the class and all my wild dreams of graduating from college and being some kind of self-sustaining adult that doesn’t break his mother’s heart will  _never happen_. This is the beginning of the end. It all starts here,” he mutters into the crook of his elbow.

Chris laughs. “Don’t know how I missed you on that set, you’re the natural one at drama, jeez. Seriously, don’t sweat it. We’re going to kick that paper’s ass. I don’t want to brag, but Professor Davidson loves me, I totally know what she looks for. And honestly, you made some real progress today, like, you’re starting to get it, right? We’re taking our time to outline all this stuff so you understand the policies which will make the actual writing process a breeze when you do start. And look, here,” he murmurs, and Sebastian hears the hasty scritch of pen on paper before Chris shoves his notebook back over to him. “There’s your title right there. It’s happening.”

Sebastian looks down at the paper, blinking as the words cross together in front of him. There staring up at him in all caps in Chris’s blocky print:  _ALL YOUR WILDEST DREAMS WILL COME TRUE_. The words drip through his cottony head as slow as molasses. He doesn’t know what to think. That Chris is making fun of him, probably. Some joke he doesn’t understand. It’s definitely not what it looks like, no Trojan horse has ever been so obvious. It still makes his heart race and his throat go abruptly dry regardless, and he has to clear it before he asks, “What the fuck, man?” He tries for his most casual tone.

“What it says! All those nasty dreams of yours of becoming a college graduate, kid. It starts here. I won’t let you down.” He gives this big, exaggerated wink and it’s simultaneously the lamest and most endearing thing ever.

God, he’s gone on a total dork, Sebastian thinks, and the thought warms him. He can’t help this sharp peal of laughter that leaps off his tongue, eyes crinkling happily, and Chris beams back, looking pleased.

“Today’s been awesome. It’s good you’re opening up, that you feel you can to me. You feel stressed, you need to vent, that’s what I’m here for. All around acing course type necessities, I’m your guy, ok? I gotta get to practice. But I’ll see you Saturday night, yeah?”

Sebastian’s already agreeing before the words sink in. “Saturday?”

“Well, yeah. I’d better. Anthony’s one of my housemates. He’s not the only one that wants to hang with sexy Sea Bass,” Chris teases flippantly, like Sebastian’s whole world doesn’t grind to a halt at his words. He leaves Sebastian with a happy backwards wave and Sebastian’s heart lodged somewhere in the middle of his throat.

Sebastian bangs his head against the table once he's sure Chris is safely gone. For all his insistent posturing, he’s sure his second year will go much the same way as his first. Chace is going to fucking kill him.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> might write more since i know i leave it hanging, but mostly i wanted to do a day in the life of desperately pining seb, especially since i'm new to the fandom (er, [hi btw](http://itsvaraza.tumblr.com)?) and still nervously feeling my way around. any c&c would be welcome.


End file.
